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THE ELIZABETH GORDON 
CHILDREN’S SERIES 

THE BUTTERFLY BABIES’ BOOK 
WATERMELON PETE AND OTHERS 
GRANDAD COCO NUT’S PARTY 
DOLLY AND MOLLY AT THE SEASHORE 


DOLLY AND MOLLY AT THE CIRCUS 
DOLLY AND MOLLY AND THE FARMER MAN 
DOLLY AND MOLLY ON CHRISTMAS DAY 
I WONDER WHY? 

LORAINE AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE 
LORAINE AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF SPRING 
LORAINE AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF SUMMER 



0 


LORAINE 

AND 

THE LITTLE PEOPLE 
OF THE OCEAN 







LORAINE 

AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE 
OF THE OCEAN 

By 

ELIZABETH QORDON^ 

Author of ”Loraine and the Little People” and “Loraine 
and the Little People of Spring” 

/ 

Illustrated by j 

JAMES McCracken / 



RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 



I 


Copyright, 1922, by 
Rand M?Nally & Company 





©Cl A683501v_> 


THE CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Loraine and the Fog People 9 

Loraine and Crest o’ the Wave Have a Swimming 

Lesson 16 

Loraine and Captain Joe 24 

Loraine Meets the Oyster Babies’ Nurse ... 33 

Loraine and the Kelpies 42 

Loraine and the Sponge People .51 

Loraine and the Coral Color Sprite 58 



7 













*‘Why, Sunbeam!" said Lor aine, sitting up 


» 


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r 


/ 




LORAINE 

AND 

THE LITTLE PEOPLE 
OF THE OCEAN 

LORAINE AND THE FOG PEOPLE 
“ How sweet the air smells,” murmured 
Loraine sleepily to herself. It was the next 
morning after she had arrived with Daddy 
and Mother and Big Sister at the seashore. 
“This is just like the air at the ocean used to 
be. That roaring sound is for all the world like 
the breakers in front of our seaside cottage.” 

“Good morning!” called a gay but 
rather tired little voice. “And may I ask 
what you would expect to see and smell at 
the seashore but the sea?” 

“Why, Sunbeam!” said Loraine, sitting 
up to rub the sleep out of her eyes. “ Is 
that you ? For a moment I thought I was 
back on the farm at Grandfather’s, and had 
9 


10 


LORAINE 


forgotten that we had come to the seashore. 
But whatever is the matter with you, Sun- 
beam? You look just like a funny little 
ghost of yourself, you are so pale.” 

‘‘Had rather a fight to get here at all,” 
said Sunbeam. ‘‘But I just couldn’t have 
you wake up on your first morning here, 
and not be here to welcome you.” 

‘‘You’re the kindest thing in the world 
always,” said Loraine gratefully. ‘‘But what 
made it so hard for you to come? You are 
always able to go wherever you want to.” 

‘‘Oh, now, stop and think a bit, 
Loraine,” said Sunbeam. ‘‘You know there 
are many places where I cannot go. And 
you know what worlds of good I could do 
if I only could get in some places, like the 
north windows of city houses, and damp 
basements where little children sometimes 
have to live.” 

‘‘I know. Sunbeam,” said Loraine. ‘‘It 
always makes you sad when you think of 


THE FOG PEOPLE 11 

those things. But what hindered you this 
morning ? ” 

“Those tricksy little Fog Sprites are all 
out,” said Sunbeam, “and they were just 
bound and determined that I should not 
get through.” 

“I don’t seem to remember the Fog 
People,” said Loraine. “Anyway, I don’t 
see why they should have objected to your 
coming to see me.” 

“That’s just it,” said Sunbeam. “You 
see, they did not understand about that. A 
little later in the morning, you know, my 
brothers and I always have a glorious fight 
with the Fog Folks. When I tried to slip 
through their ranks all by myself, they 
thought I was not playing the game fairly and 
tried to drive me back. They would have 
done it, too, if I had not thought to explain 
that I wanted to come and welcome you. 

“But hop out of bed and get dressed 
and come out,” he went on, “because at 


12 


LORAINE 


exactly nine o’clock there will be one grand 
frolic. Then we shall drive those saucy Fog 
Sprites back to Cloudland where they be- 
long. It will be fun, and you mustn’t miss it.” 

“I’ll be dressed in a jiffy,” said Loraine 
as Sunbeam slipped palely back through the 
Fog Sprites. If a jiffy is, as we may sup- 
pose, a very short time indeed, that is what 
she did. 

And just as she finished dressing. 
Mother dear came in to kiss her little 
daughter good morning. 

“Let’s have breakfast all by our two 
lone selves on the porch overlooking the 
ocean,” said Mother dear. 

“Oh,. yes, let’s!” said Loraine. “And I 
can have you all to myself and look at you 
all the time. It seems forever ’n’ ever since 
I’ve seen you.” 

“You were with Grandmother a long 
time,” said Mother, “but see how well it has 
paid. You are perfectly well and strong now.” 


THE FOG PEOPLE 


13 


“And happy, too, Mother dear,” said 
Loraine. “ I think I’m just about the hap- 
piest little girl in the whole wide world.’’ 



“Too bad it’s so foggy this morning,’’ 
said Mother when they were cozily seated 
at the pretty breakfast table. 


14 


LORAINE 


“It won’t last long,” said Loraine. “It 
will lift at nine o’clock.” 

Mother dear laughed. “You’re just as 
quaint and funny as ever,” she said. “But 
if you are a good weather prophet the fog 
must begin to lift right away, because the 
clock is just striking nine.” 

She had hardly finished speaking when 
millions of little Sunbeams broke through 
the leaden banks of fog. They flashed their 
tiny golden spears, darting now this way 
and now that, but always driving the Fog 
People before them. 

A group of them drifted right across 
the porch, and Loraine was sure she heard 
them singing, 

“We are little Fog Sprites, 

Sisters to the rain. 

Glad as glad can be are we 
To welcome you, Loraine.” 

Loraine watched the little group out of 
sight, while the Sunbeam Army drove the 


THE FOG PEOPLE 


15 


Others far out to the horizon, separating 
them into groups, darting back of them, 
and making rainbow colors of every shade 
under the sun, until at last not a Fog 
Sprite was to be seen anywhere. 

“ I think I have never seen the fog lift 
more beautifully,” said Mother dear. 

“Sunbeam is wonderful,” thought Loraine 
to herself, smiling. 

But aloud she said, “We shall have a 
wonderful day.” 




LORAINE AND CREST O’ THE WAVE 
HAVE A SWIMMING LESSON 


“Mother dear,’’ said Loraine one bright 
afternoon soon after they had come to the 
seashore, “may I put on my bathing suit 
and go down to the beach and wade?’’ 

“Indeed you may, Loraine,” said her 
mother, “but you won’t try to swim until 
Father comes down to help you, will you?” 

“Oh, no. Mother,” answered the little 
girl. “I need a great many lessons before I 
can swim by myself. But Father says I am 
learning fast, and I’ll soon master it, I’m 
sure.” 

Loraine ran lightly down over the sands, 
looking so much like a little green frog in 
her new green bathing suit that the Fiddler 
Crabs didn’t even dig in when she sat down 
beside theni to wait a moment before wading. 
The little waves were lapping gently at her 
16 




Loraine ran lightly down over the sands 




18 


LORAINE 


feet, and it all seemed very peaceful and 
familiar. 

“Same old lovely sand, same old lovely 
blue ocean, same old gray gulls flying around 
after nothing at all, and the same old lovely 
Sky Person trailing the same lovely scarf 
through the sky,” said the little girl. 

“But not the same old wheel chair, nor 
the same patient, pale little girl in it,” said 
a musical voice, with a laugh. “But the 
same old friends who have never forgotten 
her, and are glad to be here to welcome her 
back.” 

“Why, Crest o’ the Wave!” said Loraine 
in delight. “I am so glad to see you! I 
thought you had forgotten me, you’ve been 
so long in coming. How are you and how 
are all your dear little Water People?” 

“They’re just as well as can be,” said 
Crest o’ the Wave, “and eager to see you. 
We’ve been very busy lately. There have 
been so many people at the big beaches all 


A SWIMMING LESSON 


19 


summer that there wasn’t a shell left, and 
the sand was all mussed up. It has kept us 
hard at work, but we don’t mind that, bless 
you. Just so everyone had a good time is 
all we care about. 

“I need not ask how you are, Loraine,” 
she went on, “because you are as plump as 
a berry, and we’ll soon have you as brown. 
Been swimming yet?’’ 

“Father has been trying to teach me,’’ 
laughed Loraine, “but I ’m not a very apt 
pupil. I don’t seem able to grasp it. I can 
swim doggie fashion, but I want to learn the 
crawl.’’ 

“Oh, you will easily,” said Crest o’ the 
Wave. “Shall I give you a lesson right 
now?” 

“I promised Mother that I would not 
try to swim until Father comes, so I can’t 
take the lesson now, thank you,” said Loraine. 

“In that case, of course, you can’t come 
in,” said Crest o’ the Wave. “But I’ll call 


20 


LORAINE 


my Little People to give you a demon- 
stration. If you will watch them carefully, I 
am sure you will soon learn the strokes.” 



“Oh, will you, please?” said Loraine. 
“I’m sure" I can get the idea that way.” 

Crest o’ the Wave clapped her tiny 
hands, and immediately the water was full 


A SWIMMING LESSON 


21 


of laughing, chattering Little People in pretty 
pale green bathing dresses. They waved 
their hands and called, “Hoo-oo, Loraine! 
You’re back again.” 

“Now, Little People,” said Crest o’ the 
Wave, “Loraine wants to learn to swim. 
So take the crawl very slowly out to the 
edge of the biggest breaker and then come 
in on it. One, two, three, go!” And down 
went each tiny head and up went each tiny 
arm in perfect rhythm until they met the big 
breaker and all came tumbling back with it. 

Over and over they repeated the lesson 
until Loraine was sure she could do it. 
“Only,” she said, “I am sure I never could 
keep from getting my mouth full of salt 
water.” 

“Nobody expects to,” said Crest o’ the 
Wave, “but you must blow it out again, 
like this, and it won’t trouble you at all. 
Now when you go in swimming with Father, 
do exactly as we have shown you and see 


22 LORAINE 

what he will say. Good-by till tomorrow 
morning.” 

The voices of the Little People had 
hardly died away when Father and Mother 
came down to the beach in their bathing 
suits. 

‘‘Want to come for a swim?” asked 
Father. 

‘‘Indeed I do,” said Loraine, eager to 
find out if she could follow the instructions 
of the Little People. 

After they had hopped over the breakers 
until they were out to where the water was 
up to Loraine’s chin, her father said, ‘‘Now, 
doggie, see if you can paddle back to shore.” 

“I think I’ll try it this way,” said 
Loraine, straightening out her slim little body 
and putting her head down in the water as 
she began swimming the crawl stroke which 
Crest o’ the Wave had been teaching her. 

‘‘Why, you little mermaid!” said Daddy 
admiringly, as she swam to shore and back 


A SWIMMING LESSON 


23 


again to him. “You’ve been spoofing me, 
saying you couldn’t swim! Why, your crawl 
stroke is almost perfect. Who taught you 
that?’’ 

“I just watched somebody swim who 
knew how,’’ said Loraine, smiling. 



LORAINE AND CAPTAIN JOE 

It was Loraine’s birthday. Big Sister 
had tossed Grandmother Elsie’s amber beads 
into her lap with a cheery, “Here, Young- 
ling, it’s your turn to wear these now.’’ 

“People are all so wonderful to me,” 
said Loraine. Then she snuggled cozily 
down in her favorite spot on the beach 
with one of the new books Grandmother 
had sent for her birthday. “ I’ve always 
loved these old beads, and now Sister has 
given them to me. I wonder what amber 
is made of, and where it comes from. I 
must ask Daddy.” 

“Ask me, Loraine,” said a cheery little 
voice. “I know more about amber than 
any other man in the world.” 

“You do!” said Loraine, laughing in 
spite of herself at the funny little man 
in a suit of shiny yellow and silver sequins. 

24 



A funny little man was leaning against a pebble 



26 


LORAINE 


He was leaning against a pebble, smiling at 
her in the friendliest manner possible, with 
his little yellow pointed cap in his hand. 

“Who are you, you funny little man,” 
said she, “and how do you happen to know 
so much about amber? And where did you 
get those adorable clothes you are wearing?” 

“My name is Captain Joe, and since 
you would like to know, my suit is made 
of scales from the kindly Codfish’s tails. 
My mother made it for me,” he added with 
much pride. “Pretty, isn’t it?” 

“Very,” said Loraine, “and it fits you 
wonderfully. But you were going to tell 
me about amber.” 

“Tra la lee, and tra la lil, so I was 
and so I will,” said the little fellow, with a 
hop, a skip, and a jump. “Where shall I 
begin ? At the beginning, or in the middle ? ” 

“Why, at the beginning of course,” said 
Loraine. “W^here else would one begin a 
story ?” 


CAPTAIN JOE 


27 


“Well, you see,” said Captain Joe, “this 
isn’t a story. This is the truth, and there’s 



no beginning and no ending to the truth. 
But — once upon a time,” he said, seating 
himself on one corner of the rose and blue 


28 


LORAINE 


serape, “there grew on the shores of the 
Baltic Sea great forests of giant pine trees. 
They had been there for centuries. 

“But one day some great glaciers who 
lived away beyond the forest made up their 
minds that they would go down and take a 
dip in the ocean. Now if you know much 
about glaciers, you know that whatever 
stands in their path must get out of the 
way or be destroyed. As the poor pine 
trees could not move, the glaciers ground 
them to bits and carried the bits all into 
the sea.” 

“My, what a fascinating story!” said 
Loraine. “But what has that to do with 
amber?” 

“Why, you see,” said Captain Joe, 
“ when the pine trees were crushed by the 
glaciers, the sap, or resin, was all pressed 
out and was carried to the bottom of the 
ocean. There it was claimed by our Little 
People of the Water, who changed it into 


CAPTAIN JOE 29 

the clear beautiful amber of your old 
beads.” 

‘‘The name just fits it,” said Loraine. 
‘‘Amber ! I wonder who thought to call it 
that.” ' 

‘‘When King Neptune first sent it to 
the People of the Earth.” said Captain Joe, 
‘‘they supposed it to be ambergris, and so 
called it amber.” * 

“IVhat is ambergris?” asked the little 

girl. 

“That,” said Captain Joe with some 
dignity, “is Madame Whale’s story.” 

“I beg your pardon for interrupting,” 
said Loraine. “And tell me, please, how we 
get amber from the bottom of the sea.” 

“Our undersea Amber Workers,” said 
Captain Joe, “wrap the precious material 
in layers of sand and seaweed, so that it 
will float. When a large enough raft has 
been made ready. King Neptune sends a 
trusted captain and crew to take it up to 


30 


LORAINE 


the surface of the water. From there men 
who are waiting for the amber pull it to 
land with long forks and prepare it for 
use.” 

“Did you come on a raft of amber?” 
asked Loraine. 

“Certainly,” said Captain Joe, “and 
I’m going back on it, too.” 

“How did you ever get it here?” asked 
Loraine. 

“Oh, we seafaring men have secrets, 
Loraine,” said Captain Joe mysteriously. 

Loraine laughed. “You must also have 
sailors,” said she, “and I’d like to see 
them.” 

“The amber raft is just abaft,” said 
Captain Joe. “Ill pipe them. Yoo-^?^?-hoo, 
maties!” he called. 

“Coming, Captain Joe, the quickest 
way we know!” called back the crew. 

Then around the point of the big rock 
came a funny-looking little raft. It was about 


CAPTAIN JOE 


31 


twice the size of the doormat, with seaweed 
all over it and funny-looking trees like scrub 



Around the point came a Junny-looking rajt 


pines growing on it. In the shade of the 
pines were dozens of tiny sailors, who smiled 
broadly and saluted. 



32 


LORAINE 


“The tide serves, Captain, if you please, 
sir,” said one whom Loraine supposed to be 
the mate. Captain Joe sprang to his feet in 
one jump and onto the raft with another, 
and before you could even think about it 
the raft and the crew were out of sight. 

“Daddy,” said Loraine later at dinner, 
“what else besides beads is made from 
amber?” 

“Oh,” said Daddy, “many small articles, 
like cigar holders and buttons and stems for 
vases. Fine varnish is made from the poorer 
pieces, also.” 

“Amber,” said Big Sister, “is now used 
in the making of airplanes. As it is very 
scarce, and becoming more so, we may be 
asked to give up our old beads some day, 
Sisterling.” 

Loraine smiled. She thought perhaps 
Captain Joe had a few more pieces in his 
stronghold under the sea. 


LORAINE xMEETS THE OYSTER 
BABIES’ NURSE 

As the day was a bit cool for swimming, 
Loraine was curled up on the sand reading 
“Through the Looking Glass.” She had 
come to the place where Tweedledee and 
Tweedledum were reading poetry to Alice. 

“The Walrus and the Carpenter 
Were walking close at hand; 

They wept like anything to see 
Such quantities of sand.” 

Loraine read on to the end of the poem, 
and then closed the book to think over what 
she had read. 

“I’m glad the old oysters had the good 
sense not to go walking with two such 
greedy persons, even if the young ones 
had not,” said she. 

“Oysters aren’t supposed to have any 
33 


3 


34 


LORAINE 


sense,” laughed a merry little voice. “They’re 
just supposed to be plump and sweet and 
stay where they are put. Of course when 
they do otherwise, they get into trouble.” 

Loraine laughed. “Some interesting 
person is always coming to this beach,” she 
said. “I wonder who this one is. 

“Do tell me who you are and how you 
know so much about oysters,” she added to 
the dear little person wearing a Nurse’s 
costume of oyster white with a tiny shell 
pink cap who was perched on Crest o’ the 
Wave’s rock. 

“Why, bless your heart,” said the happy- 
looking Nurse Person, “I should know about 
oysters. I tuck them in bed every night. 
Because the Earth People like them so well. 
Father Neptune expects us to take wonderful 
care of them. But with all our care, just 
because they have no sense, they will open 
their shells too wide at mealtimes, and a 
grain of sand or a bug or something slips 


THE OYSTER BABIES’ NURSE 


35 


under the shell and hurts. Then they have to 
grow a pearl, and that is a serious matter.” 



“Why is it so serious?” asked Loraine. 
“Pearls are lovely.” 

“How would you like to have some one 
slip a pebble under your skin?” asked the 
Nurse Person rather severely. 


36 


LORAINE 


“I shouldn’t like it at all,” said Loraine. 

“Well, neither does the baby oyster,” 
said the Nurse. “But once he has it under 
his shell there is no way to get it out. Then 
he just has to grow a covering around it 
so it won’t be quite so uncomfortable.” 

“And so that’s how pearls happen,” said 
Loraine. “He must have some sense. That 
seems a very clever thing to do.” 

“He has a sense of comfort or dis- 
comfort,” said the Nurse Person. “Anyway, 
I ’m very fond of him and do not like to 
have him hurt, even if it is his own fault. 

“I wonder,” she went on, “if you would 
like to see my nurseries.” 

“Oh, yes !’ ’ said Loraine. “Where are they?” 

“Halfway between here and the bottom 
of the ocean,” said the Nurse Person, blow- 
ing upon a tiny mother-of-pearl whistle 
which she wore at her belt. 

Immediately there appeared at the edge 
of the water a wonderful little boat. 


o (Si 



A wonderful little boat appeared 




N 





38 


LORAINE 


Windows of mother-of-pearl inclosed it all 
around, just like a little motor car. 

“Step right in and do not be afraid, 
Loraine,” said the Nurse Person. “The Pilot 
Fish guides us, and he knows every inch of 
these waters.” 

Loraine was far from being afraid. But 
she was rather wondering how she happened 
to fit the little boat so well. 

“I s’pose it’s Little People magic,” she 
thought happily to herself as the boat glided 
along through the smooth green water. 
They passed big forests of sea mosses, with 
marvelous Sea People swimming all around 
them. 

She was almost sorry when the Nurse 
Person said, “Here we are,” and the boat 
stopped at an overhanging ledge, upon which 
were many little beds. Each bed held a 
plump, smiling baby oyster. 

“This IS the finest Oyster Nursery in the 
whole ocean,” said the Nurse Person, “if I do 


THE OYSTER BABIES’ NURSE 


39 


say it myself. Listen! The Water Nymphs 
are singing the oyster babies to sleep.” 



“Sleep well, little baby oyster, 

Sleep well, in your rock-bound cloister. 
Cradled ’neath the billow. 

Seaweed for your pillow. 

Close your little pearly shell. 

And know that everything is well.” 



40 


LORAINE 


“That is surely a very pretty song,” said 
Loraine, “and I hope that I can remember it. 
But Nurse,” said the little girl, as they were 
in the pretty pearl-windowed boat on the way 
home, “tell me, how do the people get the 
pearls that the oyster grows under his shell?” 

“It is a long story, and very tragic,” 
said the Nurse rather sadly. “When the 
oyster is about four years old, the Pearl 
Fishers come to the oyster beds in the 
queerest of queer clothes. They tear the 
oysters from their beds, carry them to the 
land, and take the pearls from those who 
have them, and feed their flesh to the pigs. 
The shells are used to make buttons, and in 
the south are crushed to make roads.” 

“So he is very useful, our little friend 
oyster, even if he hasn’t much sense,” said 
Loraine. “Thank you so much, dear Nurse 
Person, for the pleasure you have given me.” 

“I’ve had just as much fun as you 
have,” said the little Nurse Person as she 


41 


THE OYSTER BABIES’ NURSE 

jumped aboard her little boat. “Good-by 
Loraine.’’ She waved her hand and was off 



She waved her hand and was off like a flash 


like a flash, just like that. It seemed almost 
as though she had never been there. 

“Mother dear,’’ said Loraine that after- 
noon, “where did you get your pearl pin?’’ 

“It was your great-grandmother’s,’’ said 
Mother. “ I will give it to you when you 
are eighteen if you’d like to have it.” 

“I’d love to have it, thank you. Mother 
dear,” said Loraine, smiling. 


LORAINE AND THE KELPIES 


Loraine was sitting on the sands one 
morning thinking about the lovely time she 
was having with Sunbeam and all the Little 
People of the Sea, when across the waves 
she heard a great chattering of voices. 

“I’m going to have company,’’ said 
Loraine, “and there are boats and boats 
full of them. I wonder who they are.’’ 

As they pulled their tiny boats up on 
the sand and came trotting over to her, 
Loraine decided that they were surely the 
oddest Little People that she had ever seen. 
They were every one as brown as berries, 
with perfectly white curly hair, and long 
curly eyelashes. They were all smiling and 
showing perfectly white teeth. They had 
the oddest manners, too. No one moved 
or spoke. They all just stood perfectly 
still and smiled. 


42 


THE KELPIES 


43 


“Dear me,” said Loraine to herself, “I 
wonder what I’m supposed to do. Perhaps 
I ’d better speak first.” So she said, very 
cordially, “I ’m very glad to see you. Little 
People. Come over here and say, ‘ Hello, 
Loraine.’ ” 

“Hello, Loraine, hello, Loraine, hello, 
Loraine,” echoed all the little fellows. 
Loraine wondered how in the world she 
would ever be able to make them stop it. 

But just then a larger boat, flying a 
pennant of fresh seaweed, arrived. Loraine 
thought it must be the flagship. 

So it proved to be. And, immediately 
it had beached, a very dignified little brown 
gentleman in an admiral’s uniform stepped 
out and, removing his cap, said, “ I hope, 
Loraine, that you will excuse these excitable 
Little People of mine. They are Spanish 
and know very little English, and when 
they hear anything they say it over and 
over so they will not forget it.” 


44 


LORAINE 


“Run away, Kelpies,” said he. “It’s 
my turn to visit with Loraine now.” 

“Kelpies!” said Loraine. “I do not 
seem to have heard of you before.” 

“We are the Seaweed People,” said the 
Admiral. “We’re supposed to keep the sea- 
weeds straightened out and in order. If 
you’ve ever tried to do that, you’ll appre- 
ciate what a dreadful task it is.” 

“I never have,” said Loraine, “but I 
pulled the weeds out of my garden one 
morning and the next morning they were all 
back again.” 

“What a comfort to know where to 
find them,” said the Admiral. “Now I 
never know where my seaweeds will take 
it into their empty little heads to go next. 
Why, only last week it took the entire fleet 
to keep them from heading straight for the 
Sargasso Sea. You know what that would 
have meant.” 

“Why, no, I don’t know,” said Loraine, 







■ ■■ •////, 

SHumk 






•zntHh 


the Admiral 


We are the Seaweed People 







V.' . 




t 






46 


LORAINE 


“but from your tone I should think that 
it must be rather a bad place to go to.” 



“Well, rather,” said the Admiral, 
stroking his long white whiskers. “The 
Sargasso Sea, my dear, is a big ocean 
desert. It lies out in the middle of the 
ocean and does nothing at all except to 


THE KELPIES 


47 


reach out for everything that comes along. 
It is especially fond of seaweed and takes 
every bit that comes within reach, and it 
never, never, never lets a bit come back.” 

“It could come back if it wanted to, 
could it not?” asked Loraine. 

‘‘No, it could not,” said the Admiral. 
‘‘The sea is surrounded by strong currents, 
and there is no way of getting through 
them. And the lazy old sea never grows 
anything of her own. She pulls in all the 
foolish seaweeds that drift along and drapes 
herself in them, so she looks just like a 
green island. And it’s dreadfully unfair. 
She should grow her own seaweeds.” 

‘‘Yes, of course,” said Loraine. ‘‘But 
there’s so much seaweed in the ocean, I 
shouldn’t suppose you’d care.” 

‘‘But it all belongs somewhere,” said the 
Admiral, ‘‘and I’m supposed to keep it 
where it belongs. Well, I do my best.” 

‘‘ He does his best, be does his best,” 


48 


LORAINE 


solemnly chanted the Kelpie crew, who up 
to this time had been absolutely quiet. 

Loraine laughed. 

“Yes,” said the Admiral, “aren’t they 
funny ? But good as gold, as good as gold.” 

“We’re good as gold, we’re good as 
gold,” sang the Kelpies. 

“I shall have to start along with them,” 
said the Admiral. “ When they begin to think 
they’re a chorus, no further conversation is 
possible. They’ll sing all day.” 

“We’ll sing all day, we’ll sing all day,” 
chorused the Kelpies. 

“ I guess they are hopeless,” said Loraine, 
laughing. “ But I ’m so glad you could come 
and I hope you will come again.” 

“We’ll come again, we’ll come again,” 
sang each Kelpie as they all jumped into 
the little brown boats and one by one dis- 
appeared beyond the breakers. 

“Daddy,” said Loraine at dinner, “where 
is the Sargasso Sea?” 


THE KELPIES 


49 


“Well, what next?” said Daddy. “Do 
you think I am a walking encyclopedia?” 



But Big Sister said, “Why, you know. 
Daddy. It’s that funny, tremendously big 
island of floating seaweed away out in the 
middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It used to 


4 


50 


LORAINE 


be thought that ships could not cross it on 
account of the seaweed, but the Norwegians 
have disproved that.” 

“Where did you hear about it, Loraine ? ’ 
asked Daddy. 

Loraine smiled and said, “Oh, a seafar- 
ing friend of mine was speaking about it.” 



LORAINE AND THE SPONGE PEOPLE 


Loraine had been racing up and down 
the beach with Sunbeam and old Shep, the 
collie, all morning. She was as out of 
breath as Alice was after dancing with 
Tweedledee and Tweedledum around the 
mulberry bush that was not there. So she 
sent Shep home and went down on the sands 
to finish a story she had been reading. 

She became very much interested in her 
story and did not, at first, notice that some- 
body was sobbing — actually sobbing — and 
that a rather worried little voice was saying, 
“Now see what you’ve done. Grandfather! 
You’re high, and, what is worse, you’re 
almost dry, and there doesn’t seem to be a 
thing we can do to help you. You should 
look before you leap.’’ 

“But I didn’t leap,’’ answered a queer, 
quavery little old voice. “Those tricksy 
51 


52 


LORAINE 


little Water Sprites threw me up here for a 
joke. And don’t scold me, Oceana. Scold- 
ing only makes me shed tears, and I can’t 
spare the moisture.” 

“ I wonder what can be the matter,” 
said Loraine. “Some dear little person 
must be in trouble. I’ll go and see.” 

So she ran down to the water’s edge, 
where she found a whole flock of queer- 
looking Little People bobbing around on 
the surface of the water. They were peer- 
ing anxiously about for some way of help- 
ing the little old grandfather, who sat very 
forlornly on the sand. Great salty tears 
were running down his furrowed cheeks and 
dripping off the ends of his long white beard. 

‘‘What Little People are you?” asked 
Loraine. ‘‘And what is wrong with your 
little grandfather?” 

‘‘We are Sponge People,” said the one 
called Oceana. ‘‘Our work is to look after 
the baby Sponges and give them enough to 


/ 




She found a whole flock of queer-lookmfLUtle People bobbing around 

on the water 



54 


LORAINE 


eat. Bobbing in and out among the rocks 
all day, as we have to, we have no use for 
feet, and we have never been given any, so 
our little grandfather is just as helpless as a 
fish out of water would be. 

“And the worst of it is,” she went on, 
“he is evaporating. That is not so serious 
as it seems, as he will revive again if ever 
he gets back in the water. Still it can’t be 
very pleasant to feel one’s self all shrinking 
up, especially at his age.’’ 

“How old is he, poor dear?’’ asked 
Loraine, who had a very tender spot in her 
heart for her own grandfather. “ He doesn’t 
look so very old.” 

“Well,” said Oceana, “we’ve lost track 
of his age. But he must be at least ten or 
twelve centuries.” 

“Can I help him?” asked Loraine. 
“Will he let me put him back in the water?” 

“Loraine wants to put you back in the 
water. Grandfather,” said Oceana. 


THE SPONGE PEOPLE 


55 


All the other little Sponge People bobbed 
around as though they were bowing to one 
another and said, “Yes, Grandfather, Loraine 
wants to put you back in the water.” 

“She can’t do it any too soon, then,” 
said the little old grandfather, “ because I feel 
as though I shouldn’t last a minute longer.” 

“You won’t last much wider, anyway,” 
said Oceana gaily, to keep the little old 
gentleman’s spirits up. “You’re getting 
narrower all the time.” 

“ I don’t like to pick him up in my 
fingers,” said Loraine. “I’m afraid I’ll 
hurt him. Wait a minute. I have an idea.” 

She ran swiftly up the shore for her 
little sand pail and shovel. She didn’t use 
them much now, since she had so many 
other things to do. Filling the pail with 
water, she put the paddle gently under the 
sand upon which the little old man sat, 
and lifting him, sand cushion and all, put 
him into tne pail, which she took down to 


56 


LORAINE 


the water. There she carefully set him 
afloat, when he immediately began to swell 



again and paddled gratefully back to his 
relatives. 

“Thank you so much for rescuing our 
grandfather,” said Oceana. “And now we 
must hurry home to feed our Sponge Babies.” 


THE SPONGE PEOPLE 


57 


“What do you feed them, and what 
are their names?” asked Loraine. 

“I wish we had time to tell you,” said 
Oceana, “but we haven’t. Grandfather has 
used up so much time. They have excruci- 
atingly long names anyway, which we never 
even try to pronounce.” 

“ I ’ll ask Daddy,” said Loraine. But 
when she did, he said, “ I don’t know 
anything about sponges. But I can see 
plainly. Chicken Little, that it’s high time 
yOu were back in school.” 

“All right. Daddy,” said Loraine, “I’d 
just as soon.” 



LORAINE AND THE CORAL 
COLOR SPRITE 


Is was Loraine’s last day at the sea- 
shore. She had gathered enough of the gray- 
green bayberries to make Loving Thought 
Christmas candles for her nearest and dear- 
est ones. Then she gathered some lovely 
crimson wild -rose haws, which she was now 
stringing into necklaces for her schoolmates 
at home. 

It was very pleasant there by the sea 
that she loved so well, with Sunbeam dart- 
ing after the little shadows that he could 
drive into corners but never could seem to 
catch. Her thoughts were all of the dear 
Little People who had done so much to 
make her summer a pleasant one. All at 
once a voice at her elbow said, “Loraine, 
dear, would you mind letting me look a 
little more closely at those lovely beads 
58 


THE CORAL COLOR SPRITE 59 

you are stringing? I want to remember 
the shade.” 

“Why, surely,” said Loraine, turning to 
look at her visitor. “And you will tell me 
who you are, won’t you ? It is good of 
you to come on my very last afternoon. 
Your gown is so very pretty. Where did 
you get all those shades of coral?” 

“Why, I’m the Sprite who colors the 
coral,” said the little person. “ I like to 
wear my colors myself, to make sure they 
will not fade. They must stand the test of 
the sun and rain and air and sea water for 
all time. It would embarrass me greatly if a 
color should ever streak or run. The Coral 
Workers depend upon me, and it wouldn’t 
be honest, you know.” 

“No, of course not,” said Loraine. 
“But how can you be sure that a color 
will last for all time?” 

“That’s why I test them,” said the 
Color Sprite. “These I’m wearing have not 


t 



**Did you inherit your gown?'* asked Loraine 






THE CORAL COLOR SPRITE 61 

faded in a good many centuries of hard 
wear.” 

‘‘Did you inherit your gown,” asked 
Loraine, ‘‘as we did our old amber beads?” 

‘‘Oh, no,” laughed the Color Sprite. 
‘‘ I ’ve always worn it myself. I ’m a good 
deal older that I look. I’m one of Mother 
Nature’s very oldest children.” 

‘‘How do you go about coloring a 
stone like coral, if you wouldn’t mind tell- 
ing me?” said Loraine. 

‘‘Why, bless your heart, dear, coral isn’t 
a stone,” said. the Color Sprite. ‘‘Coral, we 
may say, is the family tree of a little 
creature called a Polyp. Polyps live in 
families of millions and millions all huddled 
together. The coral formation is the bones 
of the Polyp, over which his flesh grows. 
When he has lived just as long as Mother 
Nature intended he should, he just loses his 
outside and leaves his bones for the next 
family to build upon.” 


62 


LORAINE 


“Of all the interesting things I’ve ever 
heard,” said Loraine, “this is the most so. 
What else does he do?” 

“He helps to build the earth,” said the 
Color Sprite. “The Great Barrier Reef of 
Australia, which is a thousand miles long 
and three miles wide, as you mortals meas- 
ure distances, was built by him. And so 
were the Everglades and Keys of Florida.” 

“ I should suppose everybody could 
have coral beads,” said Loraine, “if there’s 
as much as that of it in the world.” 

“The common kinds are not pretty, 
and nobody would want them,” said the 
Color Sprite. “But my kind, the precious 
kind, is built by a family of Polyps that 
live in the Mediterranean Sea, and is called 
Corallium Rubrum. The Chinese mandarins 
wear buttons made from it for their lovely 
embroidered robes of state. 

“But I’m a very busy person,” said 
the Color Sprite, “and a long way from 


THE CORAL COLOR SPRITE 


63 


home. I’m anxious to try that lovely rose 
haw color before it fades from my memory. 



So good-by, Loraine.” Spreading a pair 
of gorgeous pink wings, which until then 
Loraine had not suspected she had, the little 
creature flew away like a great rose-colored 
bumble bee and was soon lost to sight. 


64 


LORAINE 


Loraine gathered up her work and her 
serape, took one long last look at the dear 
and peaceful blue of the ocean, and waved 
a farewell to the Sky Person, who waved 
back. “It’s been wonderful,’’ she said, 
“simply wonderful. But Mother dear and 
Daddy and Big Sister are going with me, 
and so is Sunbeam. They are the ones who 
make everything so wonderful, anyway.’’ 

“What have you tied that bit of rose- 
colored silk around your little finger for?” 
asked Daddy, as Loraine was snuggled in 
his lap after dinner. 

“Oh, yes. Daddy,” said Loraine. “That 
is to remind me to ask you to tell me all 
you know about coral.” 

“Which wouldn’t be much,” said 
Daddy. “But I’ll tell you what, little 
Seeker after Knowledge, we will read up on 
that the minute we get home.” 

“Let’s do!” said Loraine. 





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